


filter out the noise, focus on my voice

by frostbitten



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Magic Lessons, Post-Kingdom Hearts III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-28 09:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19391494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostbitten/pseuds/frostbitten
Summary: After the war ends, Ienzo suddenly finds himself with far too much downtime. He has no idea what to do with it; truth be told, he finds the idea of leisure time almost distasteful. No, that's not quite true: not having a set task makes him panic and begin questioning himself in a way that sends him spiralling.-Or: how Ienzo decides to relearn magic and accidentally falls for his tutor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think anyone else ships this aside from me and my friend, but that's okay. Here's your crash course on Ienrith.

It all starts on a perfectly normal Tuesday afternoon, which, in retrospect, Ienzo supposes he shouldn't be overly surprised about.

After the war ends, Ienzo suddenly finds himself with far too much downtime. He has no idea what to do with it; truth be told, he finds the idea of leisure time almost distasteful. No, that's not quite true: not having a set task makes him panic and begin questioning himself in a way that sends him spiralling.

He talks with Even, with Aeleus and Dilan, even with Master Ansem; Ienzo thinks he cannot recall a time he has talked _more._ He had been extraordinarily quiet as a child, and although Zexion could be said to be verbose, he never dithered in conversations, instead proceeding from point A to point B in an orderly fashion. Ienzo _rambles_ now. Talking makes him anxious and that anxiety gives him the urge to speak more to gloss over his nerves. He stammers, too, but this he is less self-conscious over. Even says the stutter occurs because his mouth moves faster than his brain. He also flicked him in the forehead, so perhaps his words should be taken with a grain of salt.

Sometime during all this talking, Ienzo confesses that he feels useless now. Even is back to spearhead the Replica Program, Aeleus and Dilan don't need his help to patrol the Castle, and Master Ansem is busy governing the populace once more. There is nothing he can do for Sora; the Keyblade wielder is beyond his reach.

"Do you know," he says to Even, an empty laugh forcing itself from his lips, "that I cannot cast even a simple _Fire_ spell now? I can feel the magic around me, but I cannot seem to make contact with it. I am weaker than I was as a child."

His adoptive father looks at him, exasperation souring his countenance. "Really? This is what's been troubling you, boy? You can be so foolish at times; had you simply spoken up sooner, I would've told you that that woman with the Restoration Committee offers classes. Aeris, I believe."

"Aerith," Ienzo corrects absently. He's met her on more than occasion--on his quest to prove himself useful (and therefore good, worthy), he'd assisted the group a handful of times. There are no members he particularly dislikes, but the stubbornly cheerful horticulturist is probably the one he'd be most likely to consider a friend. They've grown close during the assignments they've taken on together, and Ienzo is pleasantly surprised when he realizes he feels comfortable around her in a way he doesn't with most of his peer group. Losing his heart as a child and regaining it as an adult makes his social life confusing and stressful; it feels like they all speak a language he doesn't understand. There are unspoken rules Ienzo seems to break, and the fallout is more than he cares to bear--these days, he spends most of his time alone, indoors, with his nose buried in some book or another...or, rarer, he'll take a stroll through the Castle's private gardens (alone).

"Ienzo?" Even looks torn between mild annoyance and soft concern. Ienzo realizes with a start that his father had been speaking this whole time and he hadn't processed a word of it.

"Would you mind saying that one more time? Apologies, Even."

Even scoffs and waves a hand dismissively, mollified. "Very well. Just the one time. I asked if you would go into town and fetch me my order from the apothecary. I would do it myself, but this experiment is time-sensitive--surely you understand?"

Ienzo does, in fact, understand; more than that, he suspects this is Even's way of getting him outside and taking in fresh air. He sullenly admits to himself that it _does_ feel better to walk in the sunshine, with the scent of flowers thick in the air and the excited chatter of townspeople all around him. It's hard to feel dejected when the Square is this lively and Ienzo finds himself drawing closer to the source of all the commotion.

It's Aerith, surrounded by a gaggle of awed children. Her hands are glowing virescently and the blossoms by her feet start dancing to a song only they can hear. The kids laugh at the way the flowers are grooving and Ienzo does, too, although his heart twinges as he's reminded again of just how much he has to relearn.

Aerith whispers something and the buds that haven't opened yet begin to do so--he had never thought to learn green magic and now he finds himself enthralled with it. It would be so useful for medicinal herbs; never again would physicians be reliant on growth seasons.

Even's apothecary order is long-forgotten by the time Ienzo approaches Aerith. There's a smudge of dirt on her cheek and it only makes her eyes look that much _greener._ He smiles and he doesn't know why.

"Aerith," he begins, then falls silent, pondering his next words. "That was an impressive display."

Aerith only shakes her head and laughs, clear and bell-like. "You haven't seen anything yet, but I'll take the compliment."

Ienzo feels inexplicably like he's done something right as he gazes upon her smiling face. His cheeks heat as he realizes he's been staring. _How rude._ "That's actually the exact thing I've come to discuss with you. Even informed me that you were holding classes for new spellcasters."

"That's true!" Her hands haven't stopped glowing, still enveloped in that viridescent light. "I'm afraid I don't have any other adult pupils at the moment, so it would strictly be a one-on-one lesson plan."

"That's preferable, actually," Ienzo says, a relieved smile breaking out across his face. "The less people there are to make a fool out of myself in front of, the better."

Aerith comes over to him and places a hand over his cheek. His mind goes blank and he makes a startled noise. _She'd touched him. Why?_ No one ever touches him; Ienzo's skin tingles where her hand had been.

"Sorry." She smiles sheepishly. "It's just...you had a cut on your cheek and it was distracting me. What time are you available for lessons?"

It takes him a moment to find his voice. "Ah...afternoons are preferable, as I alternate between assisting Even and cooking dinner in the evenings."

"Are you not a morning person, Ienzo?"

He barks out a laugh. "You hit the nail on the head, I'm afraid. I can be quite unpleasant before my morning intake of caffeine."

She shrugs, giving him a dimpled smile. "I find it hard to believe anything about you is unpleasant."

"You'll just have to see," he says, surprised by his own boldness. It feels oddly charged in a way their banter hadn't before; Ienzo attributes it to his social awkwardness and breaks eye contact. Relief is palpable when he does.

"I suppose we will, at that. Tomorrow, then, at noon. Is that agreeable?"

Ienzo nods.

"Excellent. You know where my house is." He nods again; Aerith gifts him with another one of those charming laughs and a jaunty wave before making her way elsewhere.

\--

Later, he doesn't know how to tell an irate Even that he can't explain how his order had slipped his mind so effortlessly.


	2. Chapter 2

"Try again." The soft encouragement in Aerith's voice is enough to stop Ienzo from descending into self-doubt and shame. It's their third lesson and still he cannot manage to call flames to his hand. Aerith wouldn't even allow him to try it. _You need to start smaller,_ she explains to him. _Here, see if you can make the flame of this candle go out. It's much easier to manipulate a pre-existing element than it is to summon your own._

He hasn't been able to do it yet, but today, he's caused the flame to waver, the first time since he'd began studying under her.

"Am I the slowest one to progress out of all of your students?" Ienzo inquires, shooting her a curious glance. Aerith smiles and shakes her head.

"No. Your lack of belief in yourself is halting your progress, though." Upon seeing his bemusement, she continues. "Your magic can sense your hesitation, your fear. What are you so afraid of?"

Out of all of the things he'd been expecting to hear, that hadn't been one of them: Ienzo's stomach twists as he tries to think of how to respond. Absently, he notes that he can taste bile on his tongue, sour and acrid. His gaze has a pensive cast to it. "Hurting people," he says quietly, after a long pause. He doesn't want to look at her; he makes eye contact anyway. What will she think?

"A sensible fear," she responds, and Aerith must have seen the shadow of bitter acceptance flash across his face, because she holds up one of her hands, palm out. _Wait._ "But not one that I think you in particular need to worry about."

His stomach begins to unknot itself. "What...makes you so certain, if I may ask?"

She shrugs and her hair bounces with the movement. It's very wavy today, he notes, appreciating the way some of her hair escapes her high ponytail and frames her face just so. "Magic is largely responsive to the caster's intent. With how compassionate I know you to be, I think you'll probably struggle with offensive magic until you learn to trust yourself."

"Compassionate?" Ienzo blurts out. His cheeks feel hot.

Aerith tilts her head, as if appraising him--for what, he doesn't know. "Kind. Nice. Sweet. Altruistic? Do you like those adjectives better?"

He just stares at her, unable to speak.

"Try again," she says, nodding at the candle. He doesn't know why her excited gasp feels like just as much of a victory as the extinguished flame.

\--

"How are they going?" Aeleus asks him later at the dinner table. Ienzo knows exactly what he's referring to.

"I am progressing at a pace Aerith calls natural, yet it feels like a snail's pace." Ienzo frowns at his mashed potatoes and steak. He'd already eaten his green beans.

"You mustn't rush yourself," Even says, primly cutting himself a piece of steak. Dilan imitates him and Ienzo stifles a chuckle. His father doesn't seem to notice. "These things take time, and hurtling into something like magic is a recipe for disaster."

"I _know,_ " he replies; he thought he'd hidden his annoyance well, but Aeleus coughs and shifts uncomfortably. Ienzo sighs. "My apologies. I already have one teacher and I have very complicated feelings regarding this subject. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Even waves his hand dismissively. "I have thicker skin than that, boy." Dilan looks doubtful.

"Yes, well." Ienzo no longer feels hungry. "May I be excused?"

Even opens his mouth, giving Ienzo a searching look, but Dilan beats him to the punch. "You may," he says, inclining his head. "I'll clear your plate."

Normally, Ienzo would protest. Now, however, he merely offers him a wan smile and makes a hasty retreat.

He loves Even, but damned if he doesn't treat him like a naive child at times; damned if he doesn't cause him to _feel_ like one, too.

Ienzo goes to sleep early that night, not even bothering to change out of his clothes.

\--

The morning greets him like an old friend, warm and fond. The wound from the night before only left a dull ache in his chest, easy enough to push past and ignore. He showers soon after waking and the water energizes him. He dresses and makes himself a cup of tea, relishing the quiet. In Ienzo's opinion, that was the biggest benefit of being an early riser.

From his spot in one of his preferred reading alcoves, he can hear the sound of Even's door opening and closing. He's not ready yet to have the conversation that Ienzo knows his father will want to initiate; returning to his room and grabbing his munny pouch, he leaves the Castle, heading for the marketplace just to give himself something to do.

Somehow, his feet guide him to Aerith's flower stall without his input.

"Good morning!" Aerith calls to him, slinging one long leg and then the other over the half-wall that separates them. "How are you today, Ienzo?" Sunlight spills across her face and he thinks to himself that in another life, she could've been a dryad, what with the way she looks and the ease with which she cultivates and cares for plant life, how the air around her seems to thrum with magic.

"Pretty girl-- _good!_ Pretty good!" His throat closes up. Ienzo thinks he can feel his pulse racing so quickly that it's making his arms tremble. "I meant pretty good. I'm doing well."

Aerith, to her credit, is polite enough to muffle her laughter behind her hand. It's not malicious, but it makes him even more flustered. "I'm doing pretty good, too," she says, cheeks pink with mirth. "I have something for you."

"Hmm?"

Aerith turns around and plucks something from the basket balanced behind her. "Come here and close your eyes."

His palms feel sweaty, but it isn't overly humid. Ienzo approaches his instructor and does as she's told him; he feels callused fingers brush against his hair and tuck something behind his ear.

"It's a daisy," Aerith informs him, amused by the way his brows had drawn together. "Have you ever heard of the language of flowers, Ienzo?"

"I have," he responds, opening his eyes. He can't stop replaying the memory of her fingers carding through his hair, as brief as it'd been. "I'm sorry to say that my understanding of it is nonexistent, however."

She regards him silently for a beat. "It's something I'm fluent in. I know the meaning of each and every flower I grow."

He feels as though he's missed something very significant, but before he can ask what, a line begins to form behind him, and Aerith gives him an apologetic look before she starts addressing the crowd behind him. Ienzo walks away. It's selfish, but he's a little annoyed by her customers' inconvenient sense of timing. At least he'll see her at their next lesson.

Never before has six days felt like an eternity, but Ienzo finds himself counting down each day with a sense of pleasant urgency.

He's determined to uncover what he'd missed in their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to a quick Google search, daisies mean new beginnings, and giving one daisy to someone conveys that you've noticed their attention and you accept it and return it with equal measure.


End file.
